《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 10

In the state of Lu there was a man who had had one foot cut off; his name was Wang Tai. The number of people who followed him to study was about the same as those in Confucius’s school. Chang Ji asked Confucius, “Wang Tai is a cripple, yet those who follow him rival your followers in Lu. He neither lectures people nor debates with them; he merely empties his mind and they return full. Is it because he has a teaching that does not rely on words—something that invisibly awakens people’s hearts? What sort of man is he?”

Confucius said, “He is a sage. I have only fallen behind him and have not yet gone to visit him. I am about to take him as my teacher—how much more should those who are not as good as I! And this is not limited to Lu; I would lead the whole world to follow him.”

Chang Ji said, “He is only a cripple, yet you, Master, honor him as a teacher. His insight must far surpass ordinary people. What, then, is special about his inner state?”

Confucius said, “Life and death are the great matters of human existence, yet they do not alter his resolve; even if heaven and earth were to collapse, he would not lose his inner center. He understands that nothing in things is ultimately dependable, so he does not drift with outward change; he sees clearly how all things transform, yet holds fast to the root of things.”

Chang Ji asked, “What does that mean?”

Confucius said, “From the angle of difference, liver and gall, Chu and Yue, are not the same; from the angle of sameness, the myriad things are originally one. A person like this no longer clings to what ear and eye delight in, but lets his spirit wander in the harmony of De (Virtue/Power). When he looks at things, he sees the side on which they all return to oneness; he does not treat what is lost as a real loss. To lose one foot, for him, is like dropping a clod of earth.”

Chang Ji asked, “In cultivating himself, does he rely on insight to recover the true mind—and once he has it, hold to an unchanging heart? Why, then, do outward things honor him so?”

Confucius said, “People do not take running water for a mirror; they take still water for a mirror. Only stillness lets other things settle as well. All things grow from the earth, but pine and cypress stay green through bitter cold and scorching heat—that is the unique expression of the nature they received. Shun was like this: he could straighten his own life and thereby help the lives of the multitude become straight. When there is proof of guarding the origin of life, there is substance that fears nothing. A brave man who charges alone into hosts of armies—if he does it for fame and forces himself to do it, can still do so; how much more one who embraces heaven and earth, contains the myriad things, treats the body as a temporary lodging, ear and eye as outward images, gathers all things into a single knowing, and in his innermost being has never died! Wang Tai will soon choose a day to ascend to the far heights, and people will naturally follow him. How could he be willing to make outward things his concern?”

Note: Wang Tai lost a foot as punishment. “Nine armies” means many battle formations; “the six frame-members” refers to parts of the body. The closing phrase “ascend to the far heights” (dengjia) means rising to a lofty realm; ancient commentators differ on the precise sense.

A person whose mind and intention are whole and unbound may suddenly set out alone on a long journey; nothing in the world can pull them away—how much less someone within the borders of a single state?

Death and life are the greatest changes a person undergoes. One who moves together with change is not ruled by death and life in their turning.

Ease and hardship each have their own nature; beauty and ugliness shift with feeling. Each person calls what they love beautiful, and things show their beauty accordingly; each person takes what they accept as right, and the world has its separate rights and wrongs. If you only follow how things differ, difference appears everywhere; yet one whose mind is broad and sees the whole knows that difference itself is nothing to cling to. Look again along what is the same in things, and you see that sameness too is nothing to cling to. From there you come to feel that even what is said not to exist need not be fixed on as being or not being.

When you no longer split beauty from ugliness, ear and eye have nothing they cannot meet; to meet all things and yet leave the heart out of harmony— that has never been. Treat death and life as one, and losing a foot is like dropping a clod of earth: it does not weigh on the mind.

Chang Ji (a figure in the Zhuangzi) still thought Wang Tai (a famed worthy of Lu) had not put knowledge aside and still held himself apart; in fact Wang Tai forgot fixed views and so found ease in himself. He rested in his own true heart and met the past in stillness; without that stillness toward the past, outer things tug at you and you end up wanting the world to bend to you. Confucius compared him to still water, saying Wang Tai could mirror all things like water at rest—not that Wang Tai hauled the world into line with himself.

Those who look down often see only pines and cypresses; those who look up see the sage. So people whose hearts are not straight come looking for straightness. If everyone stood straight as pine and cypress, pine and cypress would not seem rare; if everyone could straighten themselves, no one would need to look up to and follow the great sage. What matters is straightening yourself—not making a show by straightening others.

Go with life and change, and wherever you are you can join with things; let the heart follow death and life, and there is never a moment outside living breath. Picking a day to climb high is only because you do not want to miss the right time; miss nothing in the time, and you need no special day. Such a person follows how nature runs and moves when the moment is ripe. So only someone who acts under another’s name will praise him for it—how could Wang Tai take outer things as what he was after?

Lu commentary: To study the Dao, learn what you usually cannot learn and do what you usually cannot do. This passage uses Wang Tai’s story to say that. Followers who traveled with Confucius only knew how to follow what they could already do, not what they could not. Even if all Lu sided with Wang Tai, he and Confucius would still only split the kingdom between them.

Following only what you can do means standing to teach and sitting to dispute; teaching cannot avoid words, and accomplishment cannot avoid showing form. Following what you cannot do is standing without teaching and sitting without discussing: people arrive with empty hearts and leave full. Confucius and Wang Tai mirror each other, outside and in. Without leaning on what you are good at to play lord or teacher, you can show the “use of the useless” and the use that is simply ordinary.

Those who differ from this are far apart: who can make him change along with life and death? Who can make him lose his nature along with collapse and fall? To understand this, one cannot rely on false knowledge; one who truly grasps the principle does not shift with external things. Life, death, collapse, and fall cannot change him, because he simply follows the changes of fate and the myriad things, while he himself does not change with them. He holds fast to the root and does not leave the source.

If one cannot view all things from the side on which they are the same, ears and eyes cannot connect with the inner mind; if one can view them from that same side, one will not be led by what ears and eyes judge as good or bad. Therefore, when one sees them from where they are the same, one will not see only what one has lost.

Chang Ji thought that Wang Tai (a disabled man whom Confucius respected) carried the Way of the sage within, using it only to cultivate himself; he obtained his mind through wisdom, and through that mind gained a constant, unchanging state of heart. Yet why should the myriad things still honor him and take him as lord and teacher? Because he could settle himself and also settle the multitude—that is why people followed him and sought his example.

Trees all receive life from the earth, yet only pine and cypress keep their evergreen alone; people all receive life from Heaven, yet only Shun alone held to the right. Was it only because Shun was fortunate to be upright from birth that he made the multitude upright as well? Those who call themselves brave can still force their way boldly into an army of nine hosts; how much more so Wang Tai, who embraced Heaven and earth and contained the myriad things—life and death could not change him. This is utterly unlike those who chase fame and deliberately display themselves. He chose the proper day to ascend Heaven and depart, coming and going at ease. How could others not follow and honor such a person?

Yidu’s commentary says: At first the learner has not yet understood and comes empty to seek instruction; when understanding comes at last, he leaves fulfilled. The teacher does not speak aloud, yet the student grasps it; the student also does not speak aloud, yet has already gained the principle. Liezi said: “To take not speaking as speech is also a kind of speech; to take ignorance as knowledge is also a kind of knowledge.” This is what he meant.

People are governed by Yin-Yang, and so there is life and death; if one can ride cloud-qi and mount sun and moon, life and death cannot change him. “Without falsehood” (wu jia) means not relying on what is empty and vain, and thus one can fulfill one’s heavenly nature; “fate of things” (ming wu) means following each thing’s own endowment, and thus one can reach Heaven’s mandate and always hold to the root.

The gallbladder attaches to the liver—they originally belong to one body; Chu and Yue are separated by thousands of li. If one looks from where they differ, even within one body it is as if a thousand li apart; if one looks from where they are the same, one can merge with the Dao, and the myriad things become one.

Wang Tai could listen and see from within himself, and so was not ruled by the standards of ears and eyes. What is called “the one” here refers to his De; what is called “what is lost” refers to his physical form. He did not only forget his own form—he also made external things forget him. Chang Ji thought that Wang Tai had not yet forgotten wisdom…

Only by forgetting oneself and forgetting the mind of discrimination can one apprehend the original heart-mind; apprehending the original heart-mind, one can recover the constant heart-mind. Can such a person really fall far short of those who stand out? Someone asked: “Why is he most outstanding?” The answer: “Wang Tai won the esteem of the multitude just as still water can reflect all things. Only when water is still can it serve as a mirror; human nature is originally upright—only by first making oneself upright can one make the multitude upright.”

Many trees belong to the category of wood, yet pine and cypress remain erect through frost and snow, surpassing other trees. The multitude are all human beings, yet Shun could rightly distinguish all things and clearly discern human relations, and thus became a sage. Wang Tai could rightly settle his own life and thereby set the living beings aright—this is what is meant by “rectifying oneself and thereby rectifying the myriad things.”

A brave warrior, for the sake of fame, will even disregard life and death and charge into the enemy’s ranks—if one can go that far, how much more so one who embodies the Great Dao? To govern the formed by the formless is called “governing heaven and earth”; to enfold the myriad things in what is without thinghood is called “the treasury of the myriad things.” The body is only a lodging where the myriad things sojourn; the four limbs and hundred joints are like temporary stays—not true possession. Though ears and eyes are present, one does not let their functions bind oneself. When knowing and what is known become one, one can merge with creation and transformation. Such a heart-mind has never truly perished, and so one can choose the day to ascend heaven and depart; whether remaining or leaving, one is at ease.

[Commentary note on the Way] One whose virtue is full—even if the body is incomplete, virtue remains whole; one whose virtue is not full—even if the body is intact, inwardly there is still lack. Wang Tai’s virtue was full within, and so he forgot the outer form; facing the changes of life and death, he was unmoved; even if overturned, he did not lose the Way. From this we see that daily gain and loss of benefit and harm are but small matters.

When one understands that things have no fixed, unchanging substantiality, one will not wear oneself out to please external things; when one follows the transformations of the myriad things, one will not harm the root with branch matters. The myriad things and I differ in kind yet belong to one body. Therefore, when one of full virtue regards the myriad things, one sees their oneness and does not take their incompleteness as loss. Such a person does not rely on ears and eyes to hear and see, and so is not ruled by external standards of “fittingness”: forgetting that one’s form is incomplete, one preserves virtue; valuing the virtue shared by the myriad things and oneself, one also forgets the deficit of one’s own bodily form.

To hear is not entirely through the ears; to see is not entirely through the eyes. Thus Wang Tai could transform people without teaching and win trust without debating. The constant heart-mind is originally one; only delusion and awakening differ. The nature of water is originally the same—flowing and stillness each have their difference: when water is still it can serve as a mirror; when a person is upright, one can become a model the multitude esteem. Pine and cypress do not change color with cold and heat, and so among trees they count as exceptional; Shun did not change the right Way whether in hardship or prominence, and so among people he became a sage. Though Wang Tai dwelt in seclusion and Shun in the open, they were the same in receiving the upright mandate of heaven and earth; therefore both could rightly settle their own lives and set the living beings aright…

Sages straighten the heart and govern the body in order to cultivate themselves; guiding the myriad beings is a responsibility they take on along the way—so, in a sense, that too counts as a kind of good fortune.

A warrior who is truly fearless within and can hold to the original mind without is therefore unburdened by life and death and dares to charge alone into the enemy host. That is Qi (vital energy) brought to its utmost refinement. How much more those who have perfected cultivation on the Dao? They take Heaven and Earth as their court and the ten thousand things as their attendants, treating all between Heaven and Earth as what they inherently possess. They lodge in the six limbs (head, trunk, and four limbs) yet do not cling to the image of the body; they have ears and eyes yet are not bound by ears and eyes; they have wisdom yet are not pulled away by external things; spirit and mind dwell alone, not tied together with the physical form. They keep the initiative over fate in the inner heart rather than handing it to externals—hence they can choose their day and rise and depart.

Bixu’s commentary says: Sages do not govern by force, yet the world is not in disorder, because they do not constrain people with commands and prohibitions; they do not speak much, yet people naturally trust them, because they do not sit and chatter endlessly. Purifying the heart through fasting and vigil in quest of the Dao is going forth in emptiness; returning after grasping the principle is coming back fulfilled. The form may show nothing outwardly, while the inner has already been accomplished; outwardly they may stand apart, while inner De (Virtue/Power) is already full.

The De of the Perfect Person (one who has reached the highest level of cultivation in the Daoist tradition) cannot be altered even by Heaven and Earth; their nature cannot be changed even by life and death. In whatever situation they find themselves, they can accord with the Dao, standing alone without shifting. Heaven and Earth operate and transform in secret, while I can still preserve inner constancy. If one looks only at the breath and functions of each part of the body, a person’s interior can seem as distant from itself as Chu from Yue; if one views things from the Dao that all things share, then there is no division between Heaven and Earth. Chasing sounds and colors, the ears and eyes are each tugged their own way; blending self and things, affairs no longer provoke preference or aversion. Therefore, when the heart is not tied to things, one can penetrate everywhere one goes; when each side accords with nature and dwells in harmony, gain and loss dissolve on their own.

Nowadays students crowd the gate and call that having found the original mind; when they see someone calm and detached, they say he has made that his constant heart. If the heart leaves no trace, how can externals confine it? In judging a person’s appearance, one should examine as when looking into still water; in seeking the Dao, one should seek an enlightened teacher. It is precisely because the heart can rest in stillness that chaotic thoughts can be stilled.

Plants grow from the earth—those that receive the pure qi of earth are like pines and cypresses; animals grow under Heaven—those that receive the pure qi of Heaven are like sages. Sages rectify themselves and act through the teaching of clarity, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). Therefore the great person faces life and death with the Dao; fame and power are not worth praising. Heaven and Earth bear the ten thousand things, each with its role; plants and animals each have their places to gather. The body is not truly “mine,” so one does not rely on ears and eyes to judge, nor treats what one knows as the only truth. When the heart is not confined, where would fixation on death come from? Choosing the day to rise and depart means that coming and going each have their time. To depend on others is to follow externals; the True Person acts according to innate nature.

Zhao’s commentary says: Wang Tai was maimed and incomplete in form; the world looked down on him, yet Confucius wished to lead all under Heaven to follow him. The Master’s insight differed vastly from ordinary people. Then someone went on to ask further…

What was Wang Tuo’s Way really like? Confucius said: All things have birth and death, yet he had none; heaven and earth may capsize and fall, yet he did not capsize and fall with them. Because he could scrutinize the true reality behind things’ illusory changes and hold fast to the root of all things.

Chang Ji had not yet understood, so Confucius used the body’s parts and the sameness and difference among all things to explain: liver and gallbladder are both the same and distinct, and Chu and Yue are likewise. Things and I seem different yet also share a common thread. Seen this way, one no longer clings to seeing with the eyes or hearing with the ears, but can accord with nature and merge things and self into one. How then could one know that one has lost anything?

Chang Ji suddenly understood and said: “He sought the Dao by cultivating the person. With his knowing, he could know his own mind; with his mind, he could attain the constant mind.” The “knowing” here is the empty, responsive awareness of the mind; from this awareness one can know the original mind. “Attaining the mind” means entering a state unbound by the changes of birth and death through the mind of awareness. Wang Tuo attained no more than this—so why did people everywhere honor him?

Confucius also said that only by resting in the right Way can one bring others to rest in it; only by making oneself upright can one make others upright. What can clarify all things is not ruled by the changes of things; what can transform and nurture all things does not change along with things. Confucius also used “preserving the beginning” (baoshi) to explain the warrant for this realm and the truth of being truly fearless. “Beginning” means what precedes heaven and earth. If one can hold it, even when birth and death arrive one will not fear. Warriors who risk all for fame can do as much—how much more those who have never been bound by birth and death?

This Dao embraces heaven and earth and completes all things; it is only lodged in the limbs and trunk of the person and shown in the senses of ear and eye, yet it runs through all ages and endures. “Dengjia” means ascending to heaven.

Yue Zhai said: “Without form, there is nothing to see; when the mind is stirred, change arises. ‘Zhi hou’ means still too late; ‘xi jia’ means how could it be only thus—in other words, far more than that.” He said that birth and death are also a great matter, and much Buddhist discourse extends from this. “Heaven and earth capsize and fall” is like what the Yizhuan says about “Qian and Kun destroyed”—heaven and earth overturning and falling. “Shen hu wu jia” is seeing through to what is utterly real. “Ming wu zhi hua” means the transformations of things receive their mandate from me; “zong” is the origin of all things. Ordinary people do not know that all things originally share one source, so they treat even liver and gallbladder as two separate things, as distant as Chu and Yue. If one understands this, one knows that things and self were always one, and one no longer relies only on hearing and seeing to know things. In observing all things, nothing is lacking and nothing is superfluous. Reading the chapter “Kui Xian” makes this meaning clear.

“Wei ji” means cultivating the self. “With his knowing” means that with this kind of knowing, one can cultivate the self; “attaining the mind” means that with this mind of awareness, one can….

Everyone has an innate heart-mind and innate awareness; the two are not separate things, only different ways of speaking. All people have heart and knowing; if they can fully bring these forth, they can fulfill themselves, gain a settled mind, and keep a constant inner state. What in things is there then worth holding in special regard?

The scripture compares the heart-mind to flowing water and still water. One who can settle the heart-mind thereby surpasses ordinary people. Ordinary people try to settle the heart through desire, yet the heart is pulled all the more by pursuit. Hence it is said: “Only by stopping restless movement can the many disturbances be stopped.” That saying is profound. Pine and cypress, Yao and Shun—each receives a distinctive portion of inborn nature, and so can straighten their own lives and help the multitude to be straightened as well. Here “life” (生) and “nature” (性) share the same sense. Guard the original state; once tested, fearless truth will surely appear. Men like Jing Ke and Nie Zheng could hold to their resolve even at the gate of life and death—how much more so those who have attained the Dao?

“Taking heaven and earth as one’s office, gathering the ten thousand things as one’s storehouse” means treating heaven and earth as the place of one’s charge and the myriad things as where they are gathered; each fulfills its role and lets things collect where they ought to collect. The six parts of the bodily frame are only lodging for “me”: the eyes are eyes yet do not cling to seeing; the ears are ears yet do not cling to hearing. Thus one returns to a single awareness; when there is knowing, there is nothing not known. When the heart holds nothing in view, this is called “death.” Would such a person still pick a day to enter the Dao? The point is that the Dao is never absent and nowhere not present.

One who can carry out transformation without relying on verbal teaching—the world is changed by it; one who can win trust without discursive argument—the world naturally believes. Without inner fullness of De (virtue/power) and outer resonance with the ten thousand things, this cannot be done. This is exactly why Wang Tai could dwell at ease and thereby become what others looked to and took as their model. Students who come to receive instruction with minds washed clean begin with emptiness; when they truly gain something and see the principle, inwardly full, they leave bearing a full load. Without emptiness the mind cannot receive teaching; without genuine experience one cannot grasp the principle. When understanding reaches its limit, clarity opens; facing things is like a bright mirror reflecting objects—and that heart-mind remains still and empty.

Therefore the gist of cultivating the Dao is nothing else: those skilled at teaching help the ten thousand things accord with their own nature; those skilled at learning strive to restore their own natural endowment. Effect need not be forced on from outside—the substance shows of itself; it is not something added by outward adornment. The Supreme One said: “I practice Wuwei (non-action), and the people transform of themselves.” That is “teaching without teaching” brought to its height. Confucius said: “What has Heaven ever said? The four seasons still turn.” That is “discourse without discoursing” brought to its height. When the ancient sages taught in this way, how should those who receive teaching respond? What was said above is that people fulfill themselves through their own knowing and gain constancy of heart through their own heart-mind; then what thing is worth special regard? Guo Xiang goes on to interpret “by their knowing” and “by their heart-mind” as…

The preceding section consists of textual notes. On the phrase "obtaining his constant heart-mind" (得其常心), Cheng Xuanying's commentary, Lin Xiyi, and Wang Pang all break the sentence at the words "left behind and not discussed" (遗而不论). Only Lü Huiqing reads "obtain his heart-mind, obtain his constant heart-mind" as a single sentence. The author finds that this reading makes the sense of the surrounding passage naturally clear. Since Xuzhai and Wuyin both follow Lü's interpretation, this edition adopts Lü's view as well.

Next come the lines from "receiving its mandate from the earth" to "only Shun alone." The sentences of the main text are uneven in length, which suggests that something has dropped out. Chen Bixu, drawing on the Zhang Junfang collated edition, writes: "Of those that receive their mandate from the earth, only the pine and cypress are unique, remaining green through winter and summer; of those that receive their mandate from heaven, only Yao and Shun are unique, standing at the head of the myriad things." This restores seven characters, and the wording becomes smooth and the meaning complete. Comparing this with Guo Xiang's commentary, which says "only the pine and cypress" in the later line and "only the sage" in the earlier one, it is clear that the original scripture (Jing) must have contained the words "at the head of the myriad things," and that they were lost in the course of transcription.

Then there is the phrase "he will choose a day and ascend far away" (彼且择日而登假). Guo Xiang breaks the sentence after the character "deng" (登) and takes "jia" (假) as the "jia" of "if," attaching it to the following clause, and Chen Bixu follows this view. Lü Huiqing, by contrast, reads "jia" as "xia" (遐, "distant") and breaks the sentence after "jia"; Wang Pang and Xuzhai follow Lü. The author holds that the term "jia ren" (假人) has no meaning, and so adopts the break after "deng xia" (登遐), which makes the sense clear: a person who has attained this Dao (Way) meets no obstacle in either departing or staying, and can ascend to a realm of profound distance. Moreover, in the "King Mu of Zhou" chapter of the Liezi, the "jia" in "deng jia" is everywhere read as "xia," which serves as corroboration. Lin Xiyi (Zhaizhai) reads "jia" as "ge" (格) and breaks the sentence there, probably on the basis of the later expression "ascending to the Dao" (登假于道).

The main text follows. Shentu Jia was a man who had had his foot cut off, and he studied together with Zichan of the state of Zheng under Bohun Wuren. Zichan said to Shentu Jia, "If I go out first, you stay behind; if you go out first, I will stay behind." The next day, the two again sat together on the same mat in the same room. Zichan again said to Shentu Jia, "If I go out first, you stay behind; if you go out first, I will stay behind. Now I am about to go out. Will you stay behind, or not? And besides, when you see a chief minister of state you do not step aside. Do you consider yourself the equal of a chief minister?" Shentu Jia said, "Within our teacher's school, is there really such a thing as talk of ministerial rank? You think of yourself as a minister of state and look down on others. I have heard that when a mirror is bright, dust cannot settle on it, and when dust settles on it, the mirror is no longer bright. One who dwells long with the worthy will be without fault. Now what you seek from our teacher is the great Dao, and yet you speak words like these. Is that not excessive?" Zichan said, "You are already in this condition, and still you would..."

Here Zichan's words, up to this point, are still an argument with Shentu Jia over distinctions of status. Shentu Jia uses the comparison of the mirror and the dust to show that when the heart-mind is clear it is not stained by external things, and also to point out that fellow students seeking the Dao should not quibble over higher and lower rank.

“Do you still intend to argue with Yao over who is better at scheming? Your virtue, I fear, is not yet enough for you to examine yourself.”

Shentu Jia said: “Those who speak out their faults and think they ought not to have been punished are many; those who say nothing of their faults yet think they ought not to live are few. To know that nothing can be done and to accept fate calmly—only a person of virtue can do that. I am like someone moving within the range of Yi’s target. When Yi (the legendary archer) shot, the bull’s-eye was exactly where one was most likely to be hit; that I was not struck was simply how fate went. People laugh at me for being maimed because their own limbs are whole—such people are many. I once flared up in anger; later, when I came to the Master, that anger suddenly drained away and I returned to peace. I do not know whether the Master washed and transformed me with the way of goodness, or not. I have followed the Master for nineteen years and have never felt that I was a cripple. Now you and I meet in inner virtue, yet you look for me in outward bodily form—is that not a mistake?”

Zichan (chief minister of Zheng in the Spring and Autumn period) looked uneasy and changed color. He said: “You are probably…”

Guo Xiang commented: Zichan meant that as a holder of office he did not wish to walk side by side with a cripple, and so showed arrogance. Shentu Jia pointed out that this talk was about virtue, not about rank. Zichan replied: Since your body is defective yet you slight those in power and still want to be counted among the virtuous, your virtue is probably not enough to make up for the fault that bodily defect brings. Shentu Jia said: Those who voice their faults and think they should not die are many; those who silently admit their wrong and feel they deserve death are few.

When profit and harm contend throughout the world, people are all as if within the range of Yi’s target. Whoever cannot forget the self and put aside cleverness, and who can rest calmly as things change, is still like someone inside Yi’s shooting range. Even one who rushes about everywhere like Zhang Yi, or hides away like Dan Bao, cannot escape being hit. Whether one is hit can only be left to fate. People laugh at me because their limbs are whole—they do not understand accepting fate; I grew angry for the same reason—I too did not understand accepting fate. Later I met the perfected person (one who has reached the highest realm), understood accepting fate and forgot the bodily form, and so my anger vanished and ordinary mind returned. I do not know whether the Master washed and transformed me with the way of goodness, or whether I understood after reflecting myself. Bodily appearance is outside; virtue is inside. Now you and I associate in virtue, yet you come looking for me in outward form—is that not a mistake? When Zichan said “You are probably…,” he meant he had already understood Shentu Jia’s words and would say no more.

Lü Huiqing commented: Shentu Jia could transcend bodily form and not take others’ power to heart; Zichan cherished his role as minister and could not let go of his authority. What those who cultivate the Dao must do is wash the dust from the inner mind and return to clarity, like a bright mirror. The original commentary breaks off at the phrase “to say such things now, as if…”.

This means that Zichan had not yet seen the principle clearly, and so the dust in his heart remained; I am not like that. I am speaking of my own fault: most people in the world feel they ought not to suffer such mutilation or loss, and so they always want to justify themselves; those who truly feel they were meant to bear it and can accept it are few.

Once you know that something cannot be helped and you settle into it peacefully, that is called knowing fate (zhiming). When Yi shot his bow, the range his arrows could reach was called the “gouzhong” (within the bow’s reach). People within that range were sometimes hit and sometimes not: being hit was fate; not being hit was only good fortune. Shentu Jia bore his mutilation without resentment because he was at peace with his fate; when Zichan heard others mock his bodily wholeness, he flared up in anger, which showed he had not yet let go of gain and loss in the physical form.

Later, when Zichan went to the master and was transformed by the Dao, he forgot the whole affair. He did not know whether the master had washed away my dust with the good Dao, or whether I had awakened on my own. For nineteen years I dwelt amid the transformations of yin and yang and never felt that my body was mutilated. Now you measure me only by the outer appearance of the body—is that not going too far?

Lin’s commentary says that “not avoiding” means Zichan did not shun Shentu Jia and still sat beside him. Proud of holding office, Zichan was questioned by Shentu Jia through the mirror metaphor. Zichan thought that with a body so mutilated, Shentu Jia still argued with him—as if one were competing with Yao over who had more virtue. Shentu Jia pointed out that most people excuse themselves, insisting they should not have suffered mutilation; few can acknowledge reality and accept it peacefully. Zichan had not forgotten externals and the physical form, prized himself highly, and looked down on the virtue of the mutilated—so he was in effect exposing his own fault without knowing it. “Knowing that nothing can be done and settling peacefully into it” is knowing fate; “gouzhong” is the range the arrow’s force can reach, a metaphor for the span of one’s allotted fate. Within the body refers to inner principles such as virtue and life-nature; outside the body refers to outward form such as hands, feet, and appearance.

Xiangdao’s commentary says that the virtuous treat wealth and honor as drifting clouds and the physical form as a temporary lodging. Zichan, relying on eminent rank, looked down on the lowly, and because his body was whole he despised the mutilated—such a person cannot be called virtuous or said truly to understand fate. Hence the text says that within Yi’s range, some are struck and some are not, and all of it is fate. Anger is dust on human nature; after awakening, the dust is cleared and the heart becomes bright. This passage describes the course from earlier confusion to later enlightenment.

Bixu’s commentary says that Zichan had studied the Dao under Bohun but had not yet forgotten the self; Shentu Jia, a fellow disciple, had not yet forgotten his own virtue—to say nothing of others. Most people insist they should not have suffered mutilation and use words to cover their faults; those who feel they ought not to cling to certain things and know how to let go are far fewer.

Those who consider themselves guilty are few. People live as if inside the target of Hou Yi’s bow; wishing to preserve themselves, they cannot avoid being wounded—this is all the working of fate.

When others mocked my bodily incompleteness, I flared up in anger, and the wind-and-fire in my heart had not yet subsided. Only when I came before Master Bohun Wuren did I gradually calm down, as when one faces still water (water calm and without ripples) and sees oneself reflected. I was with the master for nineteen years, and he never treated me as a person with a defective body. That was because he had forgotten the distinctions of De (Virtue/Power) and also forgotten the differences of bodily form.

Zhao’s commentary says: Most people cover up their faults and think they ought not to have lost something; few admit that they truly are at fault. This is because each person has his share of fortune and misfortune. It is like Hou Yi shooting an arrow: when the arrow hits the center of the target, that is exactly where the arrowhead was aimed; if one should by chance escape a shot, that is only good luck. Shen Tu Jia (here, one whose body is incomplete) did not think he had luckily escaped disaster; instead he laughed at others. That he could still be angry about it shows he did not understand accepting fate. Only when he reached Master Bohun did he let go.

Shen Tu Jia said: “When I associated with Master Bohun, he never regarded me as a lame man. Now you associate with me—you ought to be meeting within the form, that is, you should take my four limbs and my ears and eyes as your own; then you would be me. Yet you seek distinction outside the form, holding that you are you and I am me, unrelated to each other.” Zichan (chief minister of Zheng) apologized: “Say no more; I know my fault.”

Yan Zhai said: “Contending with Yao in goodness”—these four words are also striking. The meaning is: since you are already lame, even if you strive to do good, can you match Yao? Failing to examine yourself is overreaching your strength and losing sight of your own fault. Many think they ought not to have lost their feet; few think they ought not to have kept their feet. Only the person of De understands that all this follows the arrangements of fate and is not something human effort can alter.

The lines “people live inside Hou Yi’s target” are especially fine: to live in the world is like standing in a place thick with peril; the target is where the arrowhead points when the bow is drawn—an image for the danger of worldly position. If by luck one is not hit, that can only be called fate. The talk of “within the form” and “outside the form” also expresses a point earlier writers had not made clear.

Shen Tu Jia was at peace with fate and forgot his lameness; his inner De was full, so he did not grieve over outward defect. Zichan prized rank and status and looked down on the lame; his heart chased outer things, so he did not understand inner principle. Though both studied under Master Bohun, Zichan still held the office of chief minister; even so he took power and position as lofty and failed to forget the difference between them and to merge into the master’s Dao. This shows his mind-mirror was not clear enough, and dust had a place to settle.

Many think they ought not to have lost both feet; few think they ought not to have both feet. This is probably Shen Tu Jia speaking about whether the feet are lost or kept: when one is in the condition of lameness, one already knows.

People often find it hard to settle calmly with what has already happened. Yet whether one is lucky or unlucky, in the end it all comes down to fate (ming). Seen this way, Shentu Jia—the man who lost a foot as punishment—was not maimed because he had sinned.

Some read these two lines as saying that Zichan had not yet let go of the physical body and was still clinging to names and status; that reading is quite far from what the text means. When Yi, the famed archer of antiquity, shot, every place his arrow could reach lay within the zone where one might be struck; if on a given shot the arrow missed, that was only a lucky escape. To live in the world is to find worry nowhere absent; to slip free of disaster is merely to be fortunate.

If others flaunt their good fortune to mock my ill luck and I still flare up in anger, I have not yet forgotten the self. When I suddenly turn inward and look at myself, that clinging falls away. I cannot say whether the master kindly woke me or I saw it for myself: then neither the other person nor “I” remained something to fix on; things and self turned into each other—what joy or anger could still stir me, and what body was left to grasp?